I'm getting better. At least that's what I'm going to tell myself. Maybe repetition will make it true.
Normally, when my wife flies out of town, we make arrangements for dinner. You know:
"What time are you coming home?"
"You want to pick something up on the way home?"
"Are cats more dark or light meat?"
These are just a few of the questions we ask. Or I ask really. We've been together long enough that it follows a pattern. If she's going to be home for dinner she stops on the way home for pastrami sandwiches. Otherwise I make me something for me.
Remember I said she hadn't called? That's one of the things we discuss when she calls, or we discuss before she flies out. We didn't do that: no call, no discussion, no idea. In the past, I would have waited. I'd have held up dinner, just in case she didn't eat. Even if she did eat, I' throw on something after I was sure. I'd wait
Divorcing Rob didn't. D.R. assumed she'd eaten. So while I was out depositing a check, I stopped at the grocery store and bought brauts. They sounded good, and I could grill them up without a problem. We had brauts in the freezer, but if I bought them from the store, I wouldn't have to worry about thawing them. That's what I thought. Apparently brauts are the only thing our grocery store sells frozen only. Chicken, that you can buy that in any state from frozen to cooked, including the "thawed in the parking lot yesterday" special. Brauts: Frozen or nothing.
Ok, I understand, it's California, I'm happy to see brauts at all. Fatty sausage logs don't fit into the blonde dye, Tai-Bo So-Cal mystique. But if I'd known, I wouldn't have stopped at the grocery store. I'd have thawed my pre-paid freezer brauts.
But when in Rome, bring your bottle of Ragu….or however that goes, I bought the frozen ones, grabbed a salad (for pretenses of good health), and went home. There, after a warm bath (the sausages, not me) I grilled my brauts, placed them on buns with some kraut, and ate dinner.
After dinner I washed my dishes, and THEN my wife came home. I'm glad I ate, because she didn't bring anything. I'd have been starving by the time she walked in the door. Piss poor hunter/gatherer that woman. Viscious killer, just not familiar with the concept of "gather" for future consumption.
Maybe that's one of our problems. In the Aesop's fable world, She's the grasshopper and I'm the ant. Although lately I'm finding her more mantis, but that's a different story...
So, do you know what she asked me when she got home?
Of course not, that was a rhetorical question. I'll tell you. She asked, "What did you eat?"
"Brauts."
"You didn't cook any extra, did you? I’m starving."
"No, but there's three in the freezer, I can toss them on the grill if you want."
"Oooo, that sounds good."
"No problem."
And I made her brauts. I could have let her cook them on the stove. She probably would have done that to me, but I didn't I'm trying, I really am, and I felt good about it. I even sat with her while she ate, asked about her trip, and everything else. She picked up a new shot glass from the Sacramento Hard Rock Café; she collects those. She also stopped by Old Town, but said there were nothing but shops, and she wasn't in the mood to buy anything.
So what was my victory? It's nothing to grandiose, it's just a small thing really. Even though I didn't wait, I did exactly what I've always done, ever since the beginning. That's my victory. I prepared for her. I'm not going to let this divorce change me. I'm going to be who I've always been to whoever comes along. I won't let this turn me into a bitter old man shouting at the neighbor kids to get off of his lawn.
That's what I'm trying to do. I trying to do right by both of us. It isn't easy, but I've got to do it, not for me, for everybody else. I'm a nice guy, until you get to know me. I'm gonna strive to be that nice guy and not let one experience ruin it for anybody who I would otherwise help.
Ok, I've got to go chase the kids out of my yard now...
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